November 16, 2008
The needle sets on the black disc and sends it spinning,
Then you turn to me with eyes blue and mouth grinning.
"Let's dance, shall we?" and your hands fine mine,
Arms encircled, fingers entwined.
I cannot view your face in my short stature,
But the rhythmic sway and throbbing hum has my heart captured.
The record circles lazily in the turntable
While my mind stretches to as far as it is able.
Seeing a time when I can place my head upon your chest
And your fragile voice, through wrinkled lips, sounds its best.
To a day when I blow the dust off my own collection,
Continuing this musical tradition in spontaneous succession.
But for now I am content to let our dance carry the day
As the motion ceases and the music breathes it's life away.

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